Fated
by After Six
Summary: Arthur and Morgana find each other again in twenty-first century London. Written for an ArMor Secret Santa Exchange.


**Fated**

The sound of clicking keyboard and the rolling of a mouse wheel filled the quiet room as Diana Morgan sat alone on her chair, her eyes squinting in concentration at the computer screen. Her long dark hair was piled up messily on top of her head and a pair of sleek glasses perched on her nose. The screen before her showed a myriad of discussion threads with titles like 'The Whereabouts of Avalon', 'The Truth in the Legend', and 'When is the Second Coming?'

As she clicked on a thread, the chatbox attached to the forum popped up.

UnicornPrince88: Back to spread your newest conspiracy theory already? Or shall I say pure fantasy? Has anyone ever suggested that you just write a novel? You'd at least get money out of it.

Diana rolled her eyes and began to type a reply.

LadyofCamelot: Do you ever quit? Why are you even here if you're such a non-believer? You're just trolling everyone.

UnicornPrince88: Someone's got to keep things real. Clearly nobody else will because you're all crazy. Besides, isn't it more fun to have two sides to every debate?

LadyofCamelot: Not if all you're saying is just 'None of these is even real, so your argument is invalid.' Seriously. What are you really doing here?

UnicornPrince88: To ask you out.

LadyofCamelot: What?

UnicornPrince88: Go out with me.

LadyofCamelot: Now look who's talking crazy.

UnicornPrince88: Come on, you have to admit you enjoy our back and forth bantering all this time. Why not do it in person?

LadyofCamelot: Because you aggravate me. And you're an arrogant prick.

UnicornPrince88: Well, you're a crazy lady. We have so much in common. We can infuriate each other better in person. It'll be fun.

LadyofCamelot: What part of that sounds even remotely fun?!

UnicornPrince88: Come on. One drink. Don't tell me you're not curious at all how I look. I'm as dashing as a real prince, by the way.

LadyofCamelot: No, I'm really not. And I don't think you are.

UnicornPrince88: I'm coming down to London this weekend. I'll be waiting for you at the Westminster Bridge for about an hour from noon on Saturday. Come, or don't come. It's up to you.

LadyofCamelot: Well, you're going to be waiting for a long time.

* * *

Saturday morning, Diana went to do her errands as usual, enjoying the day free of class and lectures. She found herself strolling along the Thames before long, and knew instinctively that noon was approaching fast. The river seemed to be calling out to her and she told herself this had nothing to do with the so-called Unicorn Prince.

His real name was supposedly Adam, a university student like her (again, supposedly) studying Physics or Biochemistry or some advanced science like that. He often boasted about his logical mind and looked down on people who wasted their time on myths and legends—things that could not possibly be real. He came into The Round Table—the forum about Arthurian legends that Diana had frequented ever since she started working on her dissertation—about a couple months ago and all he'd seemed to do was make fun of everyone and debunked every theory and discussion with his 'sound argument' and 'genius brain'.

Diana had hated him since the first moment she laid eyes on his first post.

Infuriatingly, he seemed to have sensed this. Or maybe it was just because Diana was one of the most active posters in the forum. Either way, Adam would often go out of his way to annoy her by purposely going into threads she'd started or just posted in and contradicted whatever she was saying by bringing up 'scientific and archaeological facts'.

Diana was sick of him. Which was why she should steer clear of the Westminster Bridge today.

And yet… as the sun got higher and higher, she stopped just a few feet away from the end of the bridge. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the length of it, trying to pick out which of these people could possibly be her online nemesis. Maybe he was just messing with her. Maybe he wasn't even here at all. No doubt tonight he'd laugh at the fact that he had managed to lure her here despite her claim that she would not be.

And how would she even recognize him in this throng of tourists and locals anyway? The bridge was always a crowded place, and it was especially so in the weekend. Diana walked slowly upon it, suddenly feeling challenged. She _would _find this so-called prince and yell at him to his face.

She passed a million faces; any one of them could be his. He hadn't said anything about wearing something specific or how to recognize him, and yet she strangely felt like she would know when she saw him. It was irrational, of course, but that still didn't stop her from looking at all the faces around her.

A lone figure was leaning against the bridge, his elbows resting on its stone ledge while he faced the river. Diana could see nothing of his face, and yet she stopped short almost as if against her will. She watched his hair—his golden hair—get tousled in the wind, his lean body, the casual way he stood there as if he owned this very bridge…

And suddenly it was as if there was no question. She moved toward him, almost in a trance, and just before she could touch him, he turned as if sensing her presence.

They locked eyes, and the world seemed to tilt.

For a moment, everything went out of focus. Time seemed to speed—not forward, but backward. Strange flashes, tingles all over her body, and she swayed…

Strong arms caught and steadied her. The touch, the contact, dizzied her even more. Diana felt as if she was falling, falling deeper into those blue eyes of his... Eyes so familiar she had begun to feel an ache in her heart.

"Diana?" he said, the sound of her name on his tongue seemed… wrong, for some reason.

"You're Adam?" she asked in reply. It was only then that the spell broke; that she finally regained full control of herself and realized his arm was still on hers. She extricated herself gently from him by pretending to swipe her hair back and stepped away from him a little.

"You're… not at all like I imagined," he said.

"Well, what did you imagine? Some kind of old delusional woman surrounded by cats?" She was beginning to feel more like herself again around him. That was to say, perpetually irritated.

"Something like that," he laughed easily.

"Well, you're not like I imagined either."

"I'm more handsome, aren't I?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

She scoffed and turned away, even if she knew deep down he was right.

"You came," he said, partly in wonder and partly in smugness. "I knew you would. You couldn't resist me."

She groaned and turned around. "And I'm regretting it already." She walked away, but he quickly fell into step beside her.

"Hey, wait. You promised; one drink."

"I did no such thing."

"Well, you've come all the way here. Are you seriously going to turn down free alcohol?"

She looked at him darkly. "If the price is tolerating you for long periods of time, I might."

* * *

She went to the pub with him, of course. As promised, he bought her drink. And maybe he was a little bit charming and not completely aggravating as usual. But perhaps it also helped that they talked about real life things as opposed to myths and legends.

"So you're a History major and the forum is actually to help you with your dissertation?" he asked after a while.

"Yeah, it's surprisingly useful," she shrugged.

"But history is about facts, no?" he asked. She side-eyed him, feeling that their conversation might reach more familiar grounds soon. He raised his hands in a surrendering motion. "Hey, it's an honest question. I'm genuinely confused how you managed to pull that off."

"Some people believe legends and myths are rooted in facts and real history. That's actually what my dissertation is about; finding the truth in the fiction. My professor also happens to be a believer."

"Wow. Well-educated people in the twenty-first century still do?"

Diana sighed and put down her glass. "Don't you believe in magic?"

"Of course not." He didn't even miss a beat. Looking at her seriously, he seemed genuinely concerned. "You do know magic doesn't exist, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. I'm not crazy or delusional. I just… like to keep my options open."

"I suppose you believed Santa Claus existed until twelve?"

"Eight, actually," she admitted grudgingly. He laughed, she glared, and he shut up immediately.

"You're pretty fascinating for a crazy lady," he said after a momentary silence.

"Thanks. You're also not a total prick when you try."

"High praise coming from you."

Diana shook her head and glanced at her watch. "I'd better get going soon."

"Can I walk you home?"

She eyed him critically. "Let's see… do I want to let the arrogant brat whom I've just met in person know where I live? I think not."

"Oh come on! We've had fun. You like me now."

"Don't flatter yourself. You can walk me as far as the nearest tube station."

He agreed, and they walked together outside. When Diana saw the bridge again, she thought about what had happened back there. What was that? That strange thing that occurred when she first saw him? Did he feel it too? Or was she sick or something? It worried her, and it must show in her face, because Adam slowed his steps and looked at her in concern.

"Are you all right?"

She glanced at him, almost forgetting he was still there. "Yeah. I was just… I don't know, this whole thing's a bit strange, that's all."

"I know. But I'm not a bad person, I promise. I know they all say that, but… I genuinely just wanted to meet you. And I'm glad you showed up."

She looked at him, trying to decide if her question would be too strange to ask. "Back there… on the bridge… did you feel anything odd?"

"Odd?" he looked perplexed. "Odd how?"

She felt foolish now. "Never mind. I think I just need some rest. This is me," she gestured at the station. "So… maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yeah… I guess. Do I at least get a hug?"

"Are you going to mug me?"

He laughed. "You offend me."

She didn't know why she felt she needed to stall. One part of her seemed to have been resisting to touch him all day, always so aware at how close their skins were. Yet another part was scared at what such an intimate contact might bring. After what happened last time…

Eventually, she shoved the ridiculous worries away and stepped closer. He put his arms around her, she took a deep breath, and pressed herself against his chest.

And then the world exploded.

This time the flashes were more vivid than before. She saw full scenes; conversations, fights, embraces, celebrations, so much time spent together. A little girl and a little boy, growing up in the same castle. Feelings; aggravation which turned into attraction, denial, shifted interest, loneliness, betrayal…

And hatred. Oh, there was so much hatred.

And it all ended in death. Painful, painful death…

Memories from a lifetime ago flooded her mind in a split second and the next thing she knew she was sprawled on the cold hard ground, panting heavily. Her head felt as if it was about to crack, and her vision was blurred. When the world came back into focus, the cars, the buildings, the buses, and the people seemed _wrong_. She felt disoriented and everything was jarring, as if she had just traveled in time. Why was everything so scary and unfamiliar? It took a while before everything made sense again.

She turned and found him right beside her. His face mirrored hers—shocked, horrified, confused. They were sitting on the ground together, but this time when she looked into his eyes, she no longer saw Adam the stranger from the internet. She knew exactly who he was. She also knew exactly who _she_ was.

"Arthur…?"

"Morgana."

* * *

They sat together on a stone bench nearby, both of them still shaken. She didn't remember how she got there, only that people had been concerned and perhaps some of them had helped. She had refused their offer to call an ambulance, assured them she was fine, and eventually they left. And now she was left alone with him.

"It's impossible," were his first words when he finally found his voice again.

"Really," she looked at him, fire burning again in her veins. "After you saw all that with your own… mind—your logical mind!—you're still saying it's impossible?"

"But how could it be?" he shook his head. "We were dead." He repeated the words, as if unable to believe them. "We died."

"Well, evidently, we were reborn."

"Reincarnation?" he said skeptically.

"I suppose you didn't believe in that either."

"I most certainly did not." He turned toward her and, after a slight hesitation, touched her arm gently. She flinched; expecting another barrage of memories, but nothing happened. There was no more left. She had remembered everything. "It's really you," he said in wonder. "You look almost exactly the same as before."

"You too. But this… this isn't how reincarnation works. We're not supposed to remember."

"Maybe something went wrong. Maybe… we weren't supposed to meet? That was what brought everything back. When we touched."

She nodded, realizing that he was right. She stood up and walked a few steps away from him, feeling overwhelmed. "This is too much. It's too much. I don't know how to deal with this." She started walking further away.

"Where are you going?" he stood up, following.

"Don't." She put one hand up to stop him. "I need time. I need to process all this."

He looked stricken at the idea of losing her again, but he stayed put and watched until her figure retreated into nothingness.

* * *

Diana was having trouble sleeping. With each day that passed, the more she forced herself to go back to her routines—to her _present _life—the more the memories faded into a comfortable distance. They were still there, but they no longer overpowered her. She felt like herself again, only with the knowledge that she wasn't always just Diana Morgan.

But even if life had managed to return to some semblance of normalcy, she missed him. Adam—or to be more exact—Arthur. She couldn't get _him _out of her mind. As much as she told herself it was a bad idea, she wanted to see him.

She hadn't logged onto The Round Table since she saw him, and now she realized the irony of them finding each other there of all places. Now it remained the only place that connected them, and sure enough, she saw her inbox there was full of private messages from him. They all said the same thing. He needed to see her again.

Finally she replied. She knew she couldn't just sweep her past life under the rug forever.

Not anymore.

She was back at Westminster Bridge, and he was too. Seeing him all over again brought all the feelings she'd carefully boxed away back to the surface, and she wondered if she wished she had never remembered. She was never meant to find him again, of that she was sure.

He turned and looked at her, saying nothing for a while, just drinking in the sight of her. For a brief second it almost felt as if they were back in Camelot, him in his prince regalia, her in her royal dresses…

Then a car honked in the distance and the illusion was shattered.

"Do you still hate me?" he asked without preamble. "Is that why you didn't want to see me?"

She blinked in surprise. "Hate you? No, I…" Then she realized he was referring to _before_. She flinched, remembering how, in her last moments, the desire to murder him had consumed her so completely. It was all she could see, all she wanted more than anything. She wanted it like she needed air to breathe.

Now that she had seen the outcome of revenge, all she could feel was sadness. Sadness so deep it cut into her bones.

"No… That's not why I didn't want to see you." She shook her head. "If anything, it's because… because I feel ashamed." She didn't realize it until she said it, but now she knew it to be true. It was the horror at the realization of all the havoc she'd wrecked upon her city and the people she used to love that had kept her away. She had wanted to forget. It had been a reprieve to forget.

"I'm… sorry. I know that sounds stupidly trivial given what kind of hell I raised, but… god, I'm so sorry for everything." Tears welled up in her eyes as the grief finally caught up to her, and broken sobs racked her body for a good many minutes. She buried her face in her hands, too ashamed to face him now. She expected him to never forgive her for it. She had brought upon their deaths, after all.

But to her surprise, a short while later she felt a soft, comforting touch on her back. "It's okay. It's all… so far in the past now." He was holding her gently, and she buried her head in his chest. He enveloped her in his big, warm arms, and there was no other place she'd rather be but here, blanketed by his forgiveness and acceptance.

"I'm sorry for everything, too. I… I could have saved you. I shouldn't have abandoned you. I couldn't be bothered to find out what was going on with you…"

"Would you have done anything differently?" she asked bitterly, raising her head. "You were pretty set in your ways back then… and even up until a few days ago."

He bowed his head, as if ashamed. "Everything isn't black and white. I know that now. But you should know I would have never hurt you. No matter what. You're…" he glanced at her, "you're family."

"I'm not anymore," she said. Not in this life, that was for certain. And somehow, that made her feel immensely better. It wasn't that she was happy to lose a brother, exactly. But their shared blood had also ruined everything in the past.

Silence stretched for a long time. She finally stopped crying, and he spoke again. "Do you… still have magic?"

She looked up in surprise. "Not to my knowledge." Perhaps it was for the better. It had also messed up everything last time, after all.

He sighed. "Ironic that no matter the age, people still don't take too kindly to it."

She looked up at the sky and suddenly felt that she had no idea where her life was headed anymore. Last week everything was simple and certain. Now, not so much. "So… where do we go from here?"

"Well… I like to think we've been given a second chance." He looked at her seriously. "I've thought about it long and hard. I don't want to lose you a second time, Morgana. So if you would have me in your new life… I would like to try again. And not mess up this time."

She managed a small smile. "I think that's fair." How would that even work? To have someone from a past life present in your current one? They were no longer related by blood, and they had wiped the slate clean. Did that mean they could be whatever they wanted to be now? Was he right; was this a second chance for both of them?

She took a deep breath and sighed. All that complicated things could wait. Maybe they should keep things simple in this era. They were now just two very ordinary people, after all. There was no kingdom to fight over, no throne, no magic, no sorcerers or plots. "Who would have known you're actually the elusive unicorn prince? What an apt username your subconscious has picked," she said teasingly.

"And you the real lady of Camelot," he teased back.

This felt nice. This felt familiar, reminiscent of their happier days.

"Is everyone else here, do you think?" she asked, suddenly thinking of all the other people she'd once known.

"I don't know. You're certainly the only one I've found." He looked at her and smiled slightly. "And, to be honest, I feel that right now you're the only one I need."

"You don't miss your wife?" she asked skeptically.

He looked away. "You were the one who's stood by me since the beginning. I've forgotten that. I would not make the same mistake."

"So... Just like old times?" she smiled wider, remembering their childhood days. It had always been just the two of them. It was other people that drove them apart, separated their bond. Maybe she was selfish, but she wanted him to be the only one around now too.

"Just like old times," he agreed. "So what do you say, Morgana? Do you want to give this do-over a chance?"

She grinned. "Diana. My name is Diana."

"Of course," he laughed; a sound that she realized she'd missed all this time without knowing it existed. Now it felt like her life was complete. "My name is Adam. It's very nice to meet you, Diana."

Despite the fact that they were in the twenty first century, he bowed and kissed her hand the way he once did thousands of years ago.

And she happily allowed him that one lapse.


End file.
